Butterflies
by Prince-Iggy
Summary: When Arthur Kirkland, a 14 year old boy who aspires to become an author, collapses upon the popular exchange student from America, Alfred feels it's his duty as the hero to befriend him. As they grow closer, they start find out more about each other's lives...
1. Chapter 1

Arthur Kirkland strolled into the changing room, a solemn and serious expression upon his delicately featured face. He approached one of the spaces they used for changing and placed his PE bag on the hook, sniffing the sweat in the air from the previous class of unruly boys.

Today, there would be no messing around, he would change into his kit, attend his sports class with minimal effort – like usual, since he would rather be studying in the library than this pointless class – and try to stay under the radar. With a bit of luck, he wouldn't get picked out by his teacher too often.

Glancing around, he noticed he was the very first in the room. He liked to be early, so he could be prepared for any situation that may arise. Punctuality. That was what the rest of his classmates lacked. Soon, the uptight, snobbish kids would arrive, turning their noses to the sky over whatever little thing they could find. Arthur supposed they were good at that, if it were the only thing they were good at, picking out the worst parts of everyone.

Then, there was the odd one or two like him, always standing awkwardly at the back of the group and never pushing themselves above minimal effort. At least he could relate to them to a certain extent.

Lastly, there was that one boy. He stood in a group all on his own, almost as if he outshone everyone. He was always late for lessons, never listened to a word from anyone, and worst of all, he had a horrid hero complex that he managed to use to get in the way of everyone. No matter what he tried to do, whether he succeeded or failed, he would proclaim himself the hero. That was the obnoxious American in Arthur's class, named Alfred Foster Jones.

The Briton sighed deeply. Lately, Alfred had been getting better and better grades, which annoyed Arthur to no end. His class attendance was absolutely terrible and his previous track record had shown him getting no more than a C grade every year, so to suddenly jump to the higher achieving end of the class aroused suspicion and frustrated Arthur to no end. Yet, there was still something about the boy that was different. Something that made the Englishman smile every time he saw him in the corridors or put him in a good mood whenever he spoke to him.

Not that it meant anything significant to Arthur, oh no!

"You keep telling yourself that, Arthur..." The English boy muttered under his breath, almost silently as he replaced his school shirt and tie with his sports t-shirt, "Maybe one of these days you'll actually believe it."

Okay, so it was no lie that there was part of himself that had the teeniest crush on the American, but there was no way in hell he would ever admit it out loud! It was most likely a silly schoolgirl crush, that would pass soon enough.

Ever since Alfred had moved into the neighbourhood and enrolled in Arthur's senior school, he had been a hit with everyone. He instantly became popular among the other students, earning their respect during sporting events and lessons equally. Even though he didn't always achieve the highest marks, he was likeable even with the teachers. Really, everyone had become overly fond of him, including Arthur.

Alfred had been placed in most of his classes, including morning tutor class, so Arthur had spoken with him quite a bit. Ever since he first lay eyes on the American, he'd thought of him as handsome.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by loud chattering reaching his ears. Scanning the crowd with his bright emerald eyes, he spotted a few of his classmates and waved them over.

"Good morning, Arthur!" A cheerful brunette chirped, in a thick Italian accent, giving the blond haired Brit a brilliant smile as he sat down on the bench next to him. On his other side, a much quieter boy placed his polar bear print bag, muttering an almost silent, "hello" in a timid French-Canadian accent.

As he tied his laces, Arthur said his own greetings to the pair, nodding his head politely, "Ah, yes good morning," He said first, frowning at the lack of a certain grumpy brother, "Where's Lovino today?"

The Italian, Feliciano, shrugged, the single curl on the left side of his hair bobbing up and down with his movement, "He said he felt ill, but that just sounds like an excuse to slack off to me..."

They shared a short chuckle, whilst they finished their changing. They listened to the quiet boy, Matthew, tell a tale about the idiotic things his room mate got up to the previous evening. Soon, the school bell went, signalling the beginning of their lesson, and their teacher entered.

He hushed the boys, explaining the time table for the next term. It was the beginning of their third year, the first preparation year for their GCSEs, the exams they would have to undergo in three years, in order to get qualifications to leave school. Arthur was pretty sure that an A grade in GCSE sports is what Alfred would want, but Arthur was less enthusiastic, the only reason he chose the course was because he was forced to by his parents. He wanted to take English Literature, but it took a lot of persuasion with his parents to let him choose the course, as they believed that being sporty would get him further in life.

He came from a sporty family of three brothers, Allistor, Cailean and Peter, and two sisters, Adwyn and Eily. Most of his siblings were older, apart from Peter who was five years younger than himself, and three out of his four older siblings that had already graduated school had become athletes, but as for the last, Allistor, that was an entirely different story...

Arthur was never one for liking sport, but he did enjoy a spot of English football every now and again, even if he didn't understand the rules fully. This was another thing he'd never say out loud, since the bigger boys, who tended to throw themselves around a lot and stuck to rugby would probably say the no-contact sport was for pansies.

"And to finish off, today's sport will be football," The teacher grinned, knowing just how much almost everyone in his class despised the sport. The only reason he chose it was because he recalled a certain boy from last year having a sort of talent for it and wanted to get him involved in the classes more. He saw how much Arthur enjoyed playing it, even if only for a hobby, and wanted to put him up against the transfer boy, to test the American's knowledge of the English sport. Perhaps, Arthur could even beat Alfred, since the Californian hadn't ever played it before. _That _would be interesting to see.

A wave of groans erupted throughout the changing room, and even though Arthur played along, inside he was rejoicing, because it was the only sport he excelled in.

* * *

Alfred shivered, for he wasn't really prepared for the harsh winds of the British isles. He had barely been here for a month, and his suntanned body had hardly adjusted to the sudden temperature drop. It was hard that first English winter so far, to even step out into the Arctic like winds, since it was such a difference from California.

Back home, he was used to the heat during the early winter months, and even though his English friends assured him it wouldn't, it surely felt cold enough for snow. It was bad enough that the school was situated on the coast, where the ocean winds often never calmed and there were normally mass amounts of rain at a time, he didn't really need snow.

He attended the International School of The World, a highly prestigious academy status school, famous despite it's minuscule size of around one hundred students. Part of the reason it was so small was because it cost thousands to even apply if you weren't invited by scholarship, which was rare. The other part was because it was in the heart of a tiny village in the south west of England, in the County of Cornwall. The village went by the name of Portreath, and even from the center of the town, you could see the sea. It was brilliant on a clear, sunny day, something Alfred hadn't gotten to experience yet.

He wrapped his goosebump-covered arms around him, jogging on the spot to retain what little was left of his body heat. One of the boys passed him the ball. He ran forwards, copying what he had seen from the other students, since he'd never played Football before – well, the English kind at least.

He dribbled the ball between his feet, before sprinting full pelt towards the opposing teams goal posts. The wind rushed past him, whipping his hair like a hurricane, as he took a long shot and sent it flying in between the pure white posts, scoring the first goal of the game.

Alfred cheered, falling to his knees, panting deeply. Everyone on his team ran over, clapping him on the back and congratulating him.

He looked up, at the players on the opposing team. They were huddled by their goalpost, sparing glances at Alfred every so often. One boy, though, glared at him, as if to say, "How dare you beat me at my best sport?!"

The teacher, Mr Catalano, blew his whistle, signalling the continuation of the match. He passed the ball to the opposing team, and it was none other than Arthur Kirkland who took it. His face was one of deep concentration, as he dribbled the ball towards Alfred's side of the pitch. As one of the American's team players went to intercept it, the Brit dodged him with skilful precision. He was ever nearing Alfred himself, so he braced himself to tackle him.

As he came closer, Alfred suddenly broke out into a sprint, surprising the Englishman as he successfully stole the ball. A large growl could be heard from behind him as Arthur gave chase down the grassy area, and as they entered his half, Arthur snatched it back.

It was no longer about the other players, it was simply a running battle between the two. One could compare it to a fight to the death, only death substituted by whoever got the next goal. Neither would stop until they took that shot, neither would be satisfied with going away from the lesson with less.

As they continued to tackle each other, it became a repetitive pattern of stealing the ball, dribbling and getting it stolen, for what felt like hours, but was probably just minutes. They ignored the calls of the other players to pass, from each other's respective teams, but rather played the match against each other as individuals.

Suddenly, the action came to an abrupt stop, as Arthur gasped and fell to his knees, clutching his chest. He yelped, whether it was the collision with the floor or the pain in his chest, it was unclear, but whatever it was, made him feel like puking. He placed his left hand on the floor, steadying himself as his head felt rather light headed all of a sudden. His breathing became shallow and no matter how hard he tried, he was unable to say anything.

No one moved, they were all too stunned, apart from one person. Alfred, who was closest, rushed to the Briton's side, "Arthur! Are you okay?!" He shouted, grabbing him by the shoulders so he didn't injure himself against the floor if he fainted.

Arthur just took one more shallow gasp and collapsed in the American's lap, face first. Alfred clung on to him tightly, too afraid to do anything but hold him in his arms until Mr Catalano came over. He couldn't grasp what had just happened, apart from the obvious fact that the uptight boy whom never spoke to anyone and stayed out of everything had just fainted in his very own hands.

* * *

**AN: Well hello there! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of my brand new story, I'm actually rather proud of it! ^_^ This is my first non-collab contribution to the Hetalia Fanfic community (my other stories have all been collabs, and under the penname **_DeadlyBlue_**), even though I've been a Hetalian for quite some time now...**

**I would like to give a very big thank you to **_stuck in Canada _**for helping me with this and spotting all the mistakes I made... I am eternally grateful! :3 **

**I would also like to thank my EPICLY AWESOME SISTER for helping me come up with the title of this fic, and sparking the idea in my brain that ties the title in... *Is greatly inspired* So, thank you oneesama**_ livingdeadlizzi_**! ****^_^ Go visit her, everybody, her stories are awesome!**

**So, some background information; The town where this is set, Portreath, is actually the next town over from where I live. Yes, it is actually that cold in the wintertime and yes, you can see the sea from the centre of the town! I chose to have it there because I know all about the area! Hehe. ^_^ And Mr Catalano? That is a play off of a name of one of the sports teachers at my school... xD Lastly, about the GCSEs. They are an actual exam us English kids have to take, and my Secondary School starts them during our third year (I think that's the equivalent of American Middle School eighth grade, which in England we call year 9).**

**Oh, and so you don't get too confused later on with Arthur's siblings;**

**The Kirkland Siblings - **

**Arthur (England, obviously)**

**Allistor (Scotland)**

**Cailean (Northern Ireland)**

**Eily (Republic of Ireland)**

**Adwyn (Wales)**

**Peter (Sealand)**

***long authors note is long***

_Prince-Iggy_


	2. Chapter 2

Alfred was slumped over, eyes closed, slumbering quietly. He sat in a small, worn down and overused armchair next to the hospital bed of his British classmate, Arthur. The atmosphere was almost silent, save for the occasional rustle of clothing and consistent beeping of the heart monitor.

The American was gently pulled out of sleep by a hand on his shoulder. As he opened his eyes, blinking several times to adjust to the light, he discovered the arm belonged to a friendly looking woman. She looked somewhat reminiscent of a nurse. Wait a minute. She was a nurse. Sweeping confusedly a few times over the room with his eyes, he noticed the neatly organised shelves of various medical books and the plastic skeleton in the corner. It all came flooding back to him.

He was in the hospital a few miles away from the Academy. After the Englishman had collapsed in the Californian's lap, Alfred had insisted that he came along in the ambulance. Of course, as the hero, he had to make sure that Arthur wasn't seriously hurt, despite the fact he had only ever had minimal contact with the Briton outside of classes.

"Is something the matter, miss, uhh..." He squinted to read the name tag attached to the blue breast pocket of the short haired, blonde nurse, "Nurse Zwingli?"

The woman smiled sweetly as she spoke; Alfred realised she had a slight Swiss-German accent, "You must be Alfred. Your parents phoned after they got a message from school, they want to know if you want picking up?"

Alfred smiled, but shook his head softly at the question, "Do I have to? I mean, I would prefer to stay with Arthur..." He looked over at Arthur, his eyes full of pity, softening at the sight. He could have sworn there was something in his subconsciousness that made him attached to the boy so suddenly - as if they were pulled together by fate. He could never be so sure, though...

"Nope, totally optional," Nurse Zwingli shrugged, ruffling the young American's soft, almost downy hair, "I'll take that as a no, then," She chuckled, picking up Arthur's patient notes and walking around to the heart monitor.

She pressed a few buttons on the machine to bring up a display of charts, unreadable to Alfred since he never paid attention in maths – He cursed his slow academic learning, then. He scrunched his eyebrows together in concentration, trying to make out the complicated information, whilst nurse Zwingli took pencil to paper over the details.

"So... How's he doing?" Alfred asked, inquisitively straining his neck to look at the notes, hoping they were simpler than the ones on-screen.

The nurse smiled, "By observation of vital signs only, he's doing fine right now, but we can't say much more until the test results arrive in a few hours."

The American nodded, understanding that that was the best answer he would be getting for a long while, but there was one more question plaguing his mind, "Is he in pain?"

"He's on plenty of painkillers, so no, he isn't." She smiled softly, making her way to the door. As she placed her hand on the handle, so she could exit the room, she turned back to Alfred, only to find his head had drooped, captured by sleep once again.

* * *

A few hours had passed, and whilst Alfred had gone back to sleep a little while after nurse Zwingli had left, he still felt horrible and groggy, hardly refreshed after the short nap. He groaned, awakened fully by the sound of a door slamming against the wall, eliciting a painful, ear shattering noise. A tall, muscular man strode forward, followed by an equally tall woman. The woman caught sight of Arthur's pale, limp body and gasped, scurrying forward, grasping the side of the bed.

She had fair hair, a shade lighter than Arthur's, and upon the bridge of her nose were balanced a pair of silver framed glasses. Both her and the man had Arthur's eyebrows, so he presumed that they were his parents.

"Arthur, honey! Wake up, what happened?" She cried loudly, her husband grasping her shoulders tightly.

"Florence, calm down... Look, there's a nice young boy over there, he might be one of Arthur's friends.." At least there was one other person in the room who was still calm, Alfred noted with relief, "What's your name, lad?" They were definitely his parents, they had the same majestic Queen's English style accent, too.

He stuttered shyly, despite being very excitable usually, he had only just woken up after all, "A-Alfred, sir." He brushed a hand through his ruffled up, sandy blond hair, nodding politely at the stranger.

"You seem like a boy with nice manners." He patted Alfred on the shoulder lightly, "Given the circumstances, it's pleasant to meet you, Alfred. I am Arthur's father, John Kirkland." He turned to whom Alfred presumed was Arthur's mother, and hugged her shoulders, "I'm sure we'll find out soon enough what happened to him, Florence."

The American stood from his chair, leaning on his side of the hospital bed, as he stared at the limp Briton sleeping painlessly. Alfred had really only known Arthur personally for one day, and already so much had happened. He closed his eyes, reflecting on the past events.

Already, he had almost cost him his life, battling with him in that football game. Already he had probably made Arthur and his parents hate him for what he had done. The guilt washed over him, and it wasn't until he heard his name being called for the third time, he came out of his daze.

He blinked a few times as he opened his eyes, only to be met with a pair of dulled emerald ones. It took a few seconds to dawn on him, but when he did, he breathed out almost silently, "Arthur?"

Then the realisation really kicked in and he jumped up, startling not only Arthur, but also Mr and Mrs Kirkland, who literally bounced out of surprise, "Arthur! You're finally awake!"

He grabbed the Brit's hand, making the sick boy blush gently, his cheeks flooding crimson. That didn't mean he didn't smile though, it was good to see that Alfred actually noticed him sometimes. Perhaps now, he could even call him a friend.

Arthur then turned his head weakly, spotting his parents, "Mum, dad, I'm glad to see you," Although his voice was just as powerless as his actions, due to the accident, the relief from being able to see his parents was evident.

"We are too, honey," Mrs Kirkland smiled, grabbing his other hand and wiping a tear from her eye, "What happened?!"

The young Englishman sighed, clearly too worn out to speak, so Alfred filled in for him.

"We were playing football in P.E... Arthur and I were head to head in competition when he fell over suddenly. I ran over there, as I was closest, and he collapsed in my lap." He nodded, indicating that that was the end of the briefly told recount of events.

Just as Arthur's mother was starting to fawn over her "poor baby", Nurse Zwingli appeared in the open doorway. She smiled ever cheerily at Alfred as she swiftly sauntered over to the bed.

"Ah! Our young patient is awake, then?" She said, chuckling and taking out the notes from the plastic folder she held, "Our long awaited test results are back, do you wish to hear the news now, or wait until our head doctor arrives?"

"There's no need to wait, Lily, I'm right here!" A loud, cheery voice called from the doorway. Everyone turned, to be met by a tall man wearing traditional eastern doctor's garb. His inky black hair was done up in a long ponytail, and clipped onto his off-white doctor's coat was a name tag that read "Doctor Yao Wang".

"Ah, Dr Wang, you arrived quickly. I'll leave you to deal with this. I'll be in the Nurses Station if you need assistance." The young blond Liechtensteiner retreated from the room quickly, closing the door to allow the small group some privacy.

The Chinese doctor briefly looked over his copy of the patient notes he and Nurse Zwingli shared, "Well, You all might want to take a seat, as this could take a while..."

Arthur's parents grabbed two of the plastic chairs behind them and placed them both next to the bed, whilst Alfred returned to the armchair he formerly slept in. They, including Arthur, stared nervously at the doctor, anticipating the worst.

"Your son has been showing signs of a form of cardiac dysrhythmia, called bradycardia. It's caused by the heart beating really slowly and can result in cardiac arrests. The incident that happened to Arthur earlier was simply one of the symptoms, fainting. It's nothing to worry about, since we caught it fairly early, so we can treat it." Dr Wang explained, "Arthur had a heart rate of below 50, which is when the symptoms usually occur, and it was probably brought on by overworking during his class. We had to inject atropine into his body to stabilise him, but he's fine how, as you can see."

Alfred looked towards his new found friend then, "Is there a cure?" He would hate himself if there wasn't, as there was still guilt residing deep inside him for pushing Arthur during that match.

"Not unless he and his parents agree to an operation, where we could implant a pacemaker. He would be absolutely fine without it, if he avoided anything physical, such as sports, that could push his heart rate down again. Then again, the pacemaker would still change his life."

Arthur's face lit up, since he knew he was in no danger now. He glanced at his parents and at Alfred, who all had thoughtful looks on their faces, "Please mother, father? You heard what the doctor said, it would change my life!"

His mother looked at him and reached her arm out, brushing her hand through his dusty hair, "We'll see, honey. It's a very expensive operation, but if we can make it happen, we will." She smiled again, warming her son to the brim with overwhelming happiness.

"Meanwhile, Arthur can be discharged from the hospital tomorrow and return to school fairly soon." The doctor stated, clipping the notes to the end of the bed, "I will be back later to check on Arthur, but for now, visiting times are over."

* * *

Alfred woke with a start, grunting as he smashed the button on his alarm with enough force to damage it. Sometimes, he forgot his own strength and did that.

Details of events that happened days ago came flooding back to him as he remembered excitedly what today was. Today was the day Arthur returned to school!

Arthur had been discharged from the hospital a few days ago, and had stayed at home to recuperate with the outside world. Today he would be properly reacquainted with everyone, including Alfred, which the American was really looking forward to.

He shot out of bed quicker than usual, which highly disturbed his Canadian half brother, Matthew, "That's the fastest I've ever seen you move, Al.. It seems you've finally gotten some motivation into that butt of yours."

Alfred, who was _already _dressed, grabbed a piece of bread as he called out, "Yeah, yeah, whatever!" and ran out of the front door.

He sprinted so fast towards the school building that you could probably see dust being kicked up on the road behind him if you squinted hard enough. As he neared the cast iron entrance gates, he spotted a familiar figure and sped up, "_Arthur!_"he shouted, drawing attention to himself from multiple people.

He caught up with the Brit, smiling at him cheerily, "'Sup, dude? How ya feelin'?" He clapped him on the back gently, as they walked together through the gates. Today was going to be a great day, both Alfred and Arthur could feel it! They thought the same thing as they strolled into the building,

"_I'm glad to see you."_

* * *

**_AN: _I am so sorry about the length of time this took to write... There really isn't any excuse for such tardiness but I'll make it up to you lot at some point... |D**

**Also, I apologize because nothing really happens in this chapter, aside from Arthur's illness being revealed, but again, I will make sure to include fun filled chapters at some point! However, what was said in this chapter was needed, so, yeah...**

**Thank you so much to **_clueless in Canada_**, my beta reader, and to** _livingdeadlizzi_** for inspiring some of the plot (as I think I explained in the chapter 1 AN, she discussed some of the plot with me. :D) Also, I give my thanks to the many reviews, faves and follows I have received! Even if I didn't reply, I still read each and every review! And to the anons, it's such a shame I can't reply to you, but thank you very much!**

**And yes, the title of this fic will be relevant in one of the later chapters!**

**With lots of love to all my readers,**  
**~Prince-Iggy!**


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